


Even As A Shadow, Even As A Dream

by Madzie



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins, Alternate Universe - Human, Assassin | Alec, Internalized Homophobia, Maia is a glorious queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 02:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10866813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madzie/pseuds/Madzie
Summary: What can I say—I like what I like, and whatever I like I get.” He gives an almost abashed smile, the ghost of it’s true brilliance Alec is sure. “Probably some sort of remnant symptom of my chronic only child syndrome.”“And what if I didn’t like you back?” Alec needles just to be contrary.“Oh, then I would be rather confused to why you’ve been licking your lips intermittently for the past ten minutes that we’ve been speaking.”





	Even As A Shadow, Even As A Dream

.-

We’ve all got wooden nails,  
we all sleep inside of this machine.  
-Brand New

.-  
“You know Alec, guys really do have it so easy. All ya’ll gotta do is put on a nice suit, and boom! You’re done—We girls have to practically paint a fucking Botticelli to make ourselves presentable,” Maia pops her lips, the deep purple lipstick making her dark eyes even more alluring. Alec would seriously fear being absorbed in their depths if he weren’t so indisputably residing on the “Total homo,” line.

“You know you don’t have to get dressed to the nines for every one of these things. We’re orchestrating a murder, not playing a round of The Bachelorette.”

“Oh come off it,” she pivots on her heals dangerously quick—Curls flying, and weight slung to her left hip, a prevailing reminder that behind the warm smiles and curves that could honest to god kill, (Pun intended,) Maia Roberts is a well distinguished hit-woman who’s been leading her own missions since she was only 17. She is the best that there is, and it would do Alec well to remember that. “What fund would it be without getting all dolled up and watching decrepit white dudes clambering over each other to buy little old me a drink just for some tittie action on the side.”

“You’re unruly,” Alec blanches while adjusting his cufflinks—He absolutely hates these types of jobs. Ones where he has to get dressed up, and prodded around like a sack of meat for the pure purpose of distracting some old hag so his teammates don’t attract to much attention towards themselves. Alec much prefers the quick and dirty hits in the back of dark alleyways, or in the middle of the night at the poor succor’s house. Something methodical, and efficiently concise.

“And yet you choose me every time as your partner of choice,” Maia simpers while straightening his collar. Alec swipes off some smudged mascara that dripped onto her cheek in return—an almost sardonically domestic exchange that they’ve done about a hundred times over.

“Yeah well, your being an impossible annoyance doesn’t affect that you’re the best there is. After me of course.”

She punches him on the arm with enough force so that Alec knows it’ll bruise the next morning.

“Fucking asshole!”

“Ouch—Ay! Yeah, yeah love you too, now come on, let’s get this shit over with.”

 

~*~

 

Alec Lightwood was 19 when he and his three siblings became orphans—Young sure, but that was merely the physical manifestation of something that had happened years ago for him.

Alec was younger than that when he let Prescott Collins kiss him senseless after a particularly grueling basketball game against the Wimbledon wolves while the rest of their teammates were getting buzzed off wine coolers and greasy pizza. Alec was younger than that when It became all shadowed corners and muffled moans for them after that—Just two fear ridden boys trying to keep in tact the all too tenuous veil of propriety that they were plunged into at conception. Alec was younger than that when he tried with all his might to pretend as if he belonged in that world composed of cookie cutouts of what at one point must’ve been people with some sort of flicker of life. People who readily traded away their humanity for pasted on smiles, and lifeless eyes to pretend that everything isn’t shattering around their manners on every continent, and memberships in the elitist circle that would savagely toss away one of their own for the slightest splinter away from the parody of values they pride as being the only path available for their own. Alec was younger than that when his father walked in on Prescott sucking him off against their family’s $23,000 couch, and younger than that when he first experienced that the sinister twist of the face that promptly followed.

Plenty of “No son of mines,” and “It’s an illness, he can be cured,” were tossed around before Robert smacked him so hard that Alec can still feel the residual shaking of his teeth, and can taste that wickedly metallic tang of blood. But what really gets him sometimes—The times that Alec allows himself to think about the whole ordeal before shutting it out all over again—Is that Maryse just stood there, arms crossed in a defeatist type of way, and her piercingly dark eyes just peering up at him as if to say, “Why do you insist on making things so difficult.” Sometimes a twisted sort of laughter tares through Alec at the thought—And he’s convinced that something within him has been irrevocably shattered.

Alec left his family’s grandiose Brownstone that night and never looked back, taking up odd jobs to make ends meet, and refusing to ever take another dime away from the people who never really loved him—not in the way that parents were suppose to love their children, the selfless, unconditional type of way. Nor does he ever talk to Prescott again, last he heard the pitiful coward gave his pretty, blonde girlfriend a shiny promise ring that probably cost more than the down payment on most homes. (Probably his sick form of repentance for ever implicating himself with the “Lightwood Fag. A way to make believe that he could ever really join those mindless zombies that he and Alec spent their furtive afternoons in the library of their preparatory school) taunting from where they perched atop the glass ceiling.

It’s easy to forget about all the blank faces of his youth—It honestly felt like another time, another land where he was swallowed in an ocean of indiscriminate fuckers who never bothered to think outside their Versace veneered boxes. And the nice thing about his sudden freedom from his restraints—As if Alec were some sort of fucking cage bird—Is that it lasted for a while, he got his G.E.D, and even made some actual friends rather than the airheads from the Idris Institute who relied on their mummy and daddies money to survive, and pass on to their brood of dumb ass kids.

It was all pretty awesome—Alec was practically living out his very own version of Friends—That is of course until his situational comedy twisted up into a tragedy when Robert and Maryse died in one of those stomach twisting accidents that haunt people whenever they step foot on the tarmac of an airport,

Of course, no one thought to call the feted eldest son whom had sullied the Lightwood’s good name by liking dick. No, Alec instead overheard when cleaning up table 4 in the dandy coffee shop he currently worked for—The reporters of course latching on the illustrious Lightwood’s over any one of the other 351 forsaken souls who joined them inside that plane flying over the Atlantic. (Being beautiful and millionaires does that to one’s reputation—the public like looking at the iridescent idea of being a Lightwood, rather than thinking about all the ways it kills every living emotion within you, digging and digging and digging until you’re a vapid shell of all you ever were, and all the possibilities of who you could’ve been.

Alec ran out of the coffee shop so quickly that he swears there would’ve been an Alec shaped whole in the front door if someone hadn’t already begun opening it for him.

So yeah, he was suddenly the guardian of three younger siblings ranging from 12 to 17, and had no money to speak of because apparently good old Robert was caught up in some financial bindings that he never bothered telling his lovely wife or kids about because what of the shame.

Alec needed to make money, and he needed to make it fast. Queue hodge Starkweather—an attractive blonde who always, always left Alec a $100 tip because “You look like you need the help Cheekbones—“ Swaggering up to his conversation and offering Alec a substantial amount of doe to merely use his good looks to distract some nice elderly woman while hodge and some of his buddies take care of some business in the back.

And well…It’s not as if Alec had any viable alternatives.

Just as expected, it didn’t take much—Just a shy smile and question of help—to get the old broad to let her guards down around Alec, After all, he’s never been bashful in using his strong jawline and mesmerizing eyes to help him out.

Apparently it all went off without a hitch on their end too, so Hodge just kept offering him gigs, and Alec just kept accepting them. Soon enough Alec started administrating some missions of his own. Just Easy steals at first, until his talents extended to a point that they weren’t any longer.  
Alec tells himself that they’re all bad people, trying to get rid of even worse people, “It’s not a big deal if it’s his hands who get the job done—if not he then it’s going to inevitably be some other bloke. but sometimes in the middle of the night, Alec lies awake and wonders if living in the Lightwood abode for as long as he did really had scuffed out the portions of his heart that were built for the purpose to care—And he’s as much of an apathetic soul in an ocean of mindless zombies just like the lot of them were, and it was a small miracle that Izzy is still all fire and spice and everything nice, and Jace still smiled like the actual fucking sun. Or maybe they both fake the fuck out of it just like him, and only Max came out whole on the other side. (

Alec kind of finds that fitting if he’s being honest.)

But all those pitiful musings slink right back out of his mind every time Alec gets the cut of the deal, and it’s assured that he is okay—That he can still take care of his brothers and sister, (even if it’s really just Max now who’s living under the same roof as him.) He can buy them whatever they want, for as long as they need…And that’s good. That’s what he has to do as their eldest brother, as the person who loves them more than anything else on this planet (Especially himself.) So if deceiving or killing or stealing from the corrupt is what he must do, then fine, so be it.

Come what may, Alec is ready for it.

 

~*~

 

“Yo Max!” Alec calls out while tossing aside his keys onto the dish they keep near the front door of their modestly sized loft. “Get your ass over hear and help me put away the groceries.”

“He’s at his nerd club meeting big guy,” Dot struts out of her girlfriends bedroom clad in a dandy nightgown that really doesn’t leave much for the imagination—he could practically hear his younger brother salivating from miles away, and yeah Alec really needs to get around to talking to her about not teasing Max merciless with her uninhibited body confidence.

“It’s not a nerd club Rollins,” Alec defends his brother even if he’s not their to hear. “He like makes really cool codes…Or something…They make websites I think?” Dot gives him a pointed look. “Okay yeah, yeah he’s a fucking nerd—But you’re not allowed to tell him I said that.”

“You’re secret is safe with me Tiger,” she preens with a hand gesture mining the zipping of her lips, and the tossing of the key. Alec responds by giving her an exasperated shake of the head while opening cabinets to commence the chore that’s now been set on his shoulders.

“So why the hell are you here again. Like I get you’re screwing my best friend, but at this point if you’re gonna barge in even when no one’s home, you might as well pitch in for rent or something.”

“i’ll have you know douche, I was here with Maia, but then Luke rung and needed you guys for some sort of important, ominous shit or whatever.” One of her hands blithely gestures towards the metamorphic threat, as the other plunges a spoon into a freshly opened jar of peanut butter with much more force than needed—Eyes furrowed, and teeth bared all the while. “Something that he absolutely could not tell you through the phone—Even if you were in the middle of getting three fingers deep—”

“Woah wait,” Alec freezes mid way from setting down the salsa he was going to use to make homemade pizza tonight—partly because he hates it when Maia or Dot talk about their fervent sex life—(It’s even worse when they tag team it in the middle of a public place where he can’t just runaway shouting out declarations of “Cooties,” with his hands clamped over his ears—Hey, Alec has never claimed that he’s mature.)But his shock is mostly due to not being informed of any sort of urgent meeting called by Luke.

he twists around to look at Dot with a unbridled amount of annoyance. “And you didn’t tell me this right away why?” He growls out through gritted teeth.

“I missed looking at your pretty face?”

“I hate you!”

“Well all that hate can wait for some really sexy yelling matches later on Tiger, Luke’s probably holding everything up for your cute little tush, and you can’t keep him waiting as if he were poor little Raj! I’ll finish up here.”

Alec snatches away the peanut butter, grabs his keys, and flips off Dot—in that exact order—before swinging open the door and storming off.

 

~*~

 

“We just got the order last night, Case file 421B.” Luke informs Alec while handing him the file he had already given to the small but lethal group composed of he, Maia, Raj, and Lily—a timid looking girl who knows every nuance there is to any sort of weapon by sheer muscle memory alone.

“So what’s the job?” Alec wipes away a sheen of sweat from his forehead, suddenly thankful that he works out as much as he does in Jace’s gym, or else he’d surely be panting like crazy—And Alec seriously doesn’t need to make himself look like even more of a mess around Luke than he already does. The guy—previous wall street banker, and newly pronounced partner in this little business endeavor with Hodge—has this intimidating aura around him that kind of scares Alec shitless—or turn him on—he hasn’t decided yet”

“Just your typical whacking, nothing special. He’s a—”

“Wait!” Raj nearly slips right from his seat with a barely managed burst of excitement, causing Alec yet again to question how precisely Raj has implemented himself in such a physically strenuous teenier. “Holy mother of God! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Words Raj, we’ve talked about how your convulsions don’t make any sense to anyone else in the world,” Maia bristles, sharpened nails tapping on the glass top of the round table that their little ragtag team of assassins has huddled around— obviously still annoyed from having her date cut short.

“Look!” Raj nearly smacks the sheet into her face, emphatically pointing at the name besides the line which dictates who had made the hit, Maia’s lips rounding to an awestruck Oh shape in realization. “I know right!”

“Well I don’t,” It’s Alec’s turn to be irritated. “What’s the big deal?”

“Alec bro!” Alec mildly notes how it’s probably the first time that Raj looks straight at him without blushing in all the three years they’ve known each other. “Camille Belcourt has just been announced as the future bride of Pierre Grimaldi!”

“Isn’t that like a royal family or something?” Lily questions, and Alec feels another pulse of fondness at how she tacitly agrees with him that it was positively ridiculous for Maia and Raj to keep such close watch over the going ons of the exuberantly famous—Far too caught up in their respective lives to mind anyone else’s.

“Of Monaco to be exact,” Luke concurs in his deep baritone. “But it doesn’t change a damn thing. We were already paid half by Ms. Belcourt, and I intend that we get the other half in the time allotted to us by the future princess. That sound about right with ya’ll?”

The foursome nod in Unison, well adversed in the virtue of getting a job done, and doing it well under cloak and dagger. This is their livelihoods, and they are fucking good at it if Alec has anything to say about it. A lover scorned turned princess be damned.

 

~*~

 

The grand ballroom of the Alicante hotel—One which is not unfamiliar when the wealthy hold one of their all too sumptuous galas—is made up of all towering glass partitions, and opulent decors draped all around it’s circumference, topped off by the imposing chandelier refracting an array of soft lights onto the dance floor. A story of dust and shadows panning just beneath the surface.

“I hate this,” Alec grits out just avoiding being jostled by a woman with about three too many encounters with botox, and throbbing ears that look like they might just peal right from her head by the weight of some of the largest diamonds Alec has ever seen. (And that’s even including the tears of the ocean Robert had once bought Maryse after yet another one of his rendezvous with a pretty young thing who worked in his offices.)

Wait, no. No! Not the time.

Alec gives a rough shaking to his head, a distracted assassin is one as good as dead, he knows that. But still, being here now—the place where all his broken bits got there jagged edges and poisoned tips—it proves a little too much for Alec to handle.

“Well good thing you get to sequester off and brood in your lonesome while I talk to this dude.” Maia remedies with a patting to his arm. Alec really does love her like a second sister if he’s being honest—Even when he has to hear her and Dot fucking all god damn night long. His affections fanning out all the more by her remarkable ability to read him with no words being exchanged—a feat only held by his siblings in previous years. But family bindings not withstanding, Maia silently detected how this particular venue may have hit a little to close to coldly cruel home for Alec, and put it upon herself to have him fall back on lookout duty for the moment—which roughly translated to “hide out from anyone who might recognize you from way back when you were just a pretty prep school brat, while I get in the down and dirty. “Where did you tell Max where you were? We probably won’t be back till morning if everything goes smoothly.”

“Told him I was out drinking with some friends at work, and hoping he’ll think I just had a one night stand with some random douche.” Maia hikes up one of her perfectly manicured brows in a fashion that makes him almost painfully uncomfortable—As if she were picking him apart peace by peace. Alec idly wonders if this is how she finishes off her kills, weakening her intended target with nothing more than the quirk of the lips and scrunching of the eyes—She the scavenger and the rest of the world her prey.

There is no doubt in Alec’s mind that Maia Roberts can take a bite of the universe if she so wished.

“You know this type of thing gets a lot easier if you don’t have to add lying onto what your conscious already has to deal with, right?”

“Hey, I’m not lying!” Alec brandishes identical tumblrs of tonic from one of the poor gits who are forced to work this type of thing. “I work with you, and we’re drinking!” He practically forces her to take grasp of her glass, and tries to ignore how she disapprovingly frowns at him all the while.

“You know when I told Dot, she was—“

“Look Maia, It’s not the time. You have a job to do if I’m not mistaken?”

With one final, significant look, Maia swigs down the alcohol and embarks on searching for this elusive 421 B, a fleeting warning that “You can’t avoid this for the rest of your life babe,” tossed Alec’s way in her wake.

Whatever!

Fuck that, what even does Maia know? Alec can totally avoid this for as long as he fucking pleases—This job, this disciplined life of killing or being killed—yeah this matters nothing. It’s just a small fraction of who Alec is, just a means of survival. It’s not as if he’s gonna be working the same types of jobs when he’s 43 with a life, and partner, and kids. NO fucking way. Alec’s gonna be here for another three or four years at most. Just long enough for him to acquire the savings to pay Max through his first four years in Colombia or MIT—depending on which of his passions he explores—and then some left over for any sort of emergencies that may come up. but then. Then it’s all rose gardens and picket fences for Alec after that. And maybe even a Rottweiler if he’s up for it.

Yeah, totally. This is not a forever kind of deal for Alec. Maybe for Maia or Raj or Lily, but that’s just because they’ve never had anything else to compare it to. THey’ve all always been forging for scraps of everything from the bare essentials to the simplest of indulgences, like fresh lemon squares, or soaking up the warm rays of sun without a care in the world, or how it feels to have a family who loves you.

Sad…But true.

… Alec has always had an abundance of all of that and more. So no, he’s not destined to live out his days slitting throats or acting as arm candy. No, that is not his destiny. There’s more for him than that, he just needs to find his way out of this abyss first—Alec knows it.

There fucking has to be something more god damn it.

 

~*~

 

Precisely as Maia predicted, Alec lurks on the edges of the all too bright and raucous festivity—Eyes locked on where she mingles with a myriad of suitors, and assessing her huff of irritation when it doesn’t end up being 421 B who asks for her hand. Alec’s never bothered  
taking too deep of a look at the poor bastard’s file, he and Maia knew from the start that she would be the one to execute this particular hit of this supposedly well known up incomer . (The face of some sort of cutting edge Silicon Valley start up .) Alec honestly doesn’t really know what to look for, but expects the typical old white fuck—probably reeking of new money and ostracized for not being bestowed his billions at birth.

“You know if you want to be inconspicuously drifting in the background, you ought not to be brooding like that.”

With a start, Alec slips his focus from where Maia is swaying with some benefactor, and chooses to regard the velvet like voice calling for his attention. And okay, let’s get one thing straight. Alec definitely does not get taken aback, or start drooling. He does NOT! There is no hitching of the breath, or gaping eyes or sudden, aching twist of arousal. No, nothing of the sort. None of that Shakespearean bullshit about being caught off guard by someone he doesn’t even know so entirely that he can’t even see ten inches ahead of him!

Okay, so some of that may be kinda true.

But just some…

Or okay fine all of it! But seriously, Alec’d gladly challenge anyone else on the planet to be introduced to this guy with no warning and act totally cool in front of him. It’s as if a fray train had just run over his head with the way Alec is so lost for words, and honest to God if Maia were hear she’d waggle her tongue between her teeth and toot about how sad it is that a trained assassin like himself has become so disarmed by nothing more than a pretty face.

And yeah, this dude definitely has a pretty face. All big, doe eyes the color of smoked almonds, (Alec’s pretty sure that the makeup painted on their lids is actually called some variant of smoke—thanks Iz for teaching him that one.) With this enrapturing cheshire cat smile that’s only accentuated by dimples the size of actual fucking craters. And then the way his hair is jagged on top and shaved from the sides—making him look a tad too deliciously dangerous for fraternizing with the likes of these folks…Well yeah, erm it’s a nice esthetic all together.

Alright, so Alec may or may not be intrigued.

“And who ever said I intended to be hiding away from the crowd?” Alec sniffs loftily, inwardly echoing the fact that a distracted assassin is as good as dead over and over again, As if it were a fucking mantra.

“Oh?” The pretty boy perks with an exasperated hiking of the brows, and jutting of his chin towards the massive dance floor where the guests are mingling with no prospects outside their glimmering worlds of cotton candy smiles, and golden paved roads—Sometimes Alec feels a phantom aching in his chest. Not for the life he left, but for the life he could’ve had if he were what his father ever wanted. “So you like the company big guy? You wanna go joint their dancing?”

Alec doesn’t mean to scoff—honest—But no fucking way he’d ever partake in any of these people’s customs. But when he finally looks away from checking up on a very bored Maia trapped into a conversation with some socialite who’s surely regaling to her something or another about the latest philanthropist endeavor she’s taken on “by the good of her heart,” Alec catches a far too smug look on this mystery guys face.

“You hate them just as much as I do,” he crossly accuses.

“Oh, I most definitely do,” pretty boy crows with this pixilated gleam to his dark pools. “But at least I’m not acting like a total recluse and glowering at everyone and anyone who’s chatting up my gal.”

“She’s definitely not my type,” Alec sneers before realizing pretty boy’s intentions. “But you knew that, and just wanted it confirmed, right?”

“What can I say,” pretty boy preens. “I like making sure the guy I want is single before I charm his pants off—quite literally.”

“You’re forward,” Alec can feel the heat pulsing in his ears, and hates the fact that he’s so effected by this man.

“Hey, I like what I like, and whatever I like I get.” He gives an almost abashed smile, the ghost of it’s true brilliance Alec is sure. “Probably some sort of remnant symptom of my chronic only child syndrome.”

“And what if I didn’t like you back?” He needles just to be contrary.

“Oh, then I would be rather confused to why you’ve been licking your lips intermittently for the past ten minutes that we’ve been speaking.”

Fuck—he’s observant.

“Chapped lips.”

“Oh sure, I have the same problem sometimes.” A wicked sort of smirk curls on the edges of his sinful mouth. “I’ve discovered a marvelous remedy for it.”

“You really are an only child aren’t you? You have no bounds.”

Pretty boy gives Alec one of those “What can you do,” looks with the craning of his brows, and shrugging to his unfairly broad shoulders—And Alec wonders how chiseled they must be beneath the sports jacket, and how it’d taste to run his tongue all against that smooth, bronze skin—Wait no—no. Alec is not allowed to think that while on a mission.

He gives another cursory glance to where Maia is, just to feel like he’s not a complete and total fuck up of a partner who gets distracted by astonishingly attractive guys while his teammate is inevitably being pushed off the ledge of one of the roofs of the skyscrapers that New York is insidious with. As if they were the new, retro version of a platonic Bonnie and Clyde.

“How bout you?” Alec responds to his inquiry with a one eyed squint. “How many siblings do you have big guy?”

“Oh—ah three. Two brothers and a sister.” Wait, why the fuck is Alec answering his questions truthfully—this is not alright. Not okay in the least.

“You’re the oldest I reckon?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“No, you just have that protective, mysterious older brother vibe going on for ya,” pretty boy gives him a small, almost fond smile after a pleased once over—but no. That’d be ridiculous, because they’ve only just met. And so what if there’s some sort of instant connection that Alec has never before experienced—it means nothing. They’re worlds apart. Pretty boy is part of what Alec left behind, and Alec it still so fucked up that he has no right dragging anyone else down into his shit.

“Magnus Bane.”

Alec throws away all his inhibitions once he practically leaps forward to clasp their hands. “Alec Lightwood.”

Alec pretends that the chill oozing against his every vertebrae as if a slow crawling spider is merely do to the nonexistent draft coming in through the windows, and that the megawatt smile Magnus gives him doesn’t make his stomach lurch forward, or his knees into jelly.

“I have to go pick up my friend Ragnor from his office…But maybe we can trade digits? You can tell me all the perils of being the big brother trademark, and I can tease you on how I’ve never had to share a bathroom a day in my life.” Alec doesn’t bother correcting him on how Alec’s never had to share a bathroom until he was unceremoniously hoisted out of his family home.

Magnus’s smile dims, just slightly, when he must translate Alec’s silence into indifference. “I bet you’ve got a whole arsenal of embarrassing stories of how all their little friends were mooning after you~”

Alec can’t help the huff of amusement that pours out, even if he still refuses to trade numbers with Magnus and all his beautiful charisma that can surely wreck Alec if he let it. Wither him down until he’s nothing but bleeding moans and exhausted whimpers of all the things they could do to one another—And with arms like those Alec thinks Magnus could just pin him against the wall right here, and fuck him until the end of the next moon cycle. Hard enough so that Alec is screaming and writhing and can’t walk straight for another week. And seriously, what kind of excruciatingly mouthwatering type of full circle would that be? Fucking an adonis around the lot who made him feel most unworthy for who he is.

Alec needs to stop that train of thought right now! Because no!, nope. NO way. That is where Alec draws the line. A little flirtatious banter is one thing, but he can not extend this little attraction any further.

NOPe.

“Yeah I’ve gotta tell you about this one time with this chick that my brother, Jace, was trying to totally get with. Ya know, before he met Clary and suddenly all he could do is sing lyrical about her beautiful smile and angelic voice and weirdly orange hair.”

Magnus laughs, and Alec wonders why the fuck he’s so weak around pretty faces.

 

*~*

**Author's Note:**

> IDK if I wanna write a companion peace in Magnus's POV or just a straight up continuation...
> 
> Thoughts?
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, really it means so so so fucking much to me that people actually read this, and it means so so much to me when I see someone commenting Talking to anyone about what I publish makes me feel so happy and as if I actually should continue writing...
> 
> COME YELL AT ME ON [TUMBLR](http://madziethemagnificent.tumblr.com)


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